Five Times They Didn't Say I Love You …
by AndAllThatMishigas
Summary: Bernice Waverley and Terry Jarvis, through their careers.
1. Chapter 1

**Five Times They Didn't Say "I Love You" …**

_The First Time_

"Hey there, Bernice, how's that dickhead husband of yours?"

Bernice clenched her jaw and did her best not to roll her eyes the way she wanted. "Not as much of a dickhead as you, Jarvis," she replied sweetly.

Terry laughed heartily and walked over to his desk to get going on his paperwork.

She was still new to Homicide, and Bernice Waverley was not going to squander her chance to prove herself. She was a very young detective still. And while it might have been a show of confidence from the brass if a man was put on Homicide as a detective with only a year's experience, Bernice knew better in her case. They were trying to scare her off. Push her too far and too hard and too fast and give her the sack when she crumbled under the pressure. Well, the joke was on them. Bernice Waverley wouldn't ever crack under the pressure.

Having to work alongside Terry Jarvis, however, might prove too much. They'd been at the academy together, side by side from day one. Or rather, locking horns from day one.

Terry Jarvis was an absolute pig. All the men gave Bernice a hard time, being a reasonably attractive woman in a world of overly-masculine men, but Jarvis was different from the rest. He didn't just whistle at her or make sexual comments. Terry Jarvis actually took the time to learn about her, get to know her, and his taunts were unsettlingly personal. Not always cruel, actually. Sometimes it almost seemed like he was complimenting her. But Bernice wouldn't be fooled. Someone like Jarvis didn't have a kind bone in his body, no matter how well-built that body was.

Across the room, Terry was watching Bernice Waverley. More often than not, he found himself watching her. There was a reason women shouldn't be detectives. Too distracting. At least when they were as beautiful as Bernice. And she really, really was. Perfectly soft blonde hair. Dazzling smile. Very curvy figure. Everything Terry's shrew of a wife wasn't. Pamela had dark hair, freckled skin, skinny legs, and a voice so shrill, it made Terry want to bash his own head in. But she was his wife, so he was stuck with her. If his mother hadn't been so mad for Pamela, Terry might be a free man. Free to do all sorts of things.

There was still the problem of Bernice's husband. Jack, his name was. Terry had never met him and didn't care to, but he'd overhead enough conversations from Bernice's desk to know that he wasn't too keen on having an ambitious cop for a wife. And Bernice Waverley was as ambitious as they came. That was probably the thing that rubbed him the worst. She was a damn good cop. Sharp and gorgeous and a damn good cop.

Bernice looked up and made eye contact with Terry when he was staring at her. That wasn't the first time she'd caught him doing that. What was he playing at, just watching her? She was well-acquainted with what it looked like when some disgusting man was having sexual fantasies about her in his head while he stared at her, but it didn't seem that Terry had that on his mind. He seemed curious, somehow. But maybe that's just how he looked when he was imagining her tits.

A small shiver passed through her as his lips curled into a small smile. Damn him, why did he do that? And why couldn't she ignore him?

Terry broke their shared gaze and went back to the paperwork on his desk. Bernice's phone rang, making her jump. "Detective Waverley," she responded, trying to keep from squeaking out her own name.

Even though he wasn't looking at her anymore, Terry was still paying attention to Bernice. His head was cocked in just the right way so he could overhear everything she was saying. And once again, it seemed she was trying her best not to have too much of an argument.

"Jack, you don't understand…I…" She kept shutting her mouth as the man on the line kept interrupting her. She sighed heavily, "Look, I've gotta go. I need to work…Wait what do you mean, 'Don't come home'?! Jack!"

Bernice hung up the phone. The line was dead anyway. Jack was madder than she could ever remember him being. And he'd told her not to come home. Her shift would be over in an hour. Where was she supposed to go?

Left with no alternative, Bernice pushed her problems out of her mind and got back to work. Maybe she could get some overtime approved and she could just stay at that police station all night. She'd do the filing if it meant she didn't have to worry about where to go.

Five hours later, after everyone had knocked off and gotten a drink and got themselves a bit pissed, Terry Jarvis returned to his desk at Homicide to retrieve his car keys. He'd left them in the drawer when he went out with the boys. If he was honest, he'd had one too many. But he could sober up in the car before dragging himself back to Pamela.

A sound caught his attention. A strangled sort of sob. After a moment of investigation, Terry found the source of the sound in the corridor beside the senior sergeant's office. There, sitting on the floor and curled up in a ball, was Bernice.

"Oi, what're you doing here?" he asked, nudging her foot with his shoe.

She tried to hold back her sobs and looked up at him with a tear-stained face. "Oh Christ, what are you doing here?" she asked angrily, between hitched breaths.

"I asked you first."

How typically childish of him. "Just leave me alone, Jarvis," Bernice insisted.

"No, I won't. Not till you tell me what you're doing here in the middle of the night, cryin' your eyes out."

He looked down at her and did his best not to let the look on her face break his heart. Her bottom lip, which was usually frowning at him in disdain, was trembling. "My husband is going to leave me," she said, tears flowing from her eyes anew.

Terry knelt down to speak to her softly. "Is that what he said?"

"No, but he doesn't need to say it. I can see the writing on the wall. He hates that I'm a cop. If I don't quit, he's going to walk out on me, I just know it."

"Well, good riddance. Being a cop is the best thing about you. It's who you are, through and through. And if that husband of yours can't see it, that's his problem. You kick him out first, I say," he told her encouragingly.

That made her chuckle, in spite of herself. "If my dignity was the only thing to worry about, I would agree with you. But Jack's the only real protection I've got around here."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh come on, Terry. What do you think is gonna happen when you and every other man in this building know I don't have a husband waiting in the wings to defend my honor? You lot might not respect me, but you respect that I've got a husband. You wouldn't dare do anything to another man's wife, isn't that right?"

"Anyone bothers you, you just point them my way, alright?"

"And what are you gonna do?"

"Set 'em right."

Bernice just scoffed in pessimistic disbelief.

Terry sighed. His knees weren't appreciating squatting in this position. "Come on, up you get," he announced, offering his hands to her as he stood.

Reluctantly, Bernice let him pull her up off the floor. "Thanks," she mumbled.

"Come on, I'll take you home."

She shook her head. "Can't go home."

"Why not?"

And just when she thought she'd gotten ahold of herself, Bernice burst into tears again. "Because Jack told me not to."

While Terry's immediate impulse was to drive over to the Waverley house and beat the living daylights out of that miserable husband of hers, Terry knew it wasn't his place to do anything of the sort. "Alright then," he said, pulling her into a rather awkward embrace, "I'll take you to a hotel." Bernice sniffed against his chest for a moment and he patted her back before she was able to catch her breath and pull back from him.

Without giving it much more thought, Terry grabbed his keys and took Bernice's hand to lead her to the lift. When they stood inside, waiting to be taken to the basement car park, Bernice turned to face him. "You're being nice to me."

Terry shrugged.

"You're never nice to me."

"Just don't let the truth spread, alright? I've got a reputation to maintain."

"Reputation as a horse's ass," she muttered.

"You wanna stay crying in the corridor all night?" he threatened, having heard her pointed insult.

But Bernice just laughed. "No, thank you, Terry." She put her hand back in his grasp.

He realized, quite suddenly, that she'd never called him by his first name before. Always insisted on just calling him Jarvis.

They got to his car and he opened the door for her. He put the key in the ignition and paused. "What's the problem?" she asked.

"I'm not really alright to drive," he admitted.

"Are you drunk?"

"A bit," he replied with a shrug.

Bernice groaned in annoyance. "You are unbelievable."

"So are you," he said softly.

She turned to him sharply. "What!?"

His voice was quiet but deeply sincere. "You are. You're unbelievable. Unbelievably smart and strong and beautiful. And that husband of yours is an unbelievable idiot."

Bernice wasn't sure if it was the booze making him say those things or if it was her own vulnerability and exhaustion that made her feel like she was melting into a puddle of goo, but whatever was going on seemed to take on a life of its own inside her. Before she knew it, she had started kissing Terry Jarvis.

Terry responded immediately, taking her face in his hands, tangling his fingers in her hair, holding her close to him.

Neither of them said a single word as they kissed passionately and unbuttoned shirts and shimmied out of trousers. Terry laid her back on the bench seat of his car and positioned himself on top of her. The sounds of breathy moans and skin wetly slapping together joined the rocking squeaks of the car. The sex was nothing too exciting, but it was quite good for them both. Terry couldn't believe his luck as he thrust inside her over and over. Bernice had her head thrown back as she gasped in ecstasy before Terry finished with a bone-deep groan and collapsed on top of her.

For Terry, this was the culmination of years of feelings and yearnings for this woman who drove him crazy. He had wanted her, and now he'd had her. And all he wanted was more.

For Bernice, a lightbulb seemed to go off in her mind. All the frustration with Terry over the years suddenly made sense. And all of her hateful protestations seemed to fall away to the truth of the moment.

They lay together in the front seat of Terry's car, breathing heavily and clutching one another. And neither of them said a word.


	2. Chapter 2

_The Second Time_

Tuesday was Terry's favorite day of the week. He liked Fridays, too. But Tuesdays were special. He met Bernice at a motel on the other side of town every Tuesday and Friday, unless they were working a case late—which they both would know since they were on the same crew. Fridays were fun because the end of the week and sometimes they'd go out for drinks with the other detectives before making their separate ways to the motel. But on Fridays, Terry had to look forward to two whole days when he didn't see her. He was stuck at home with Pamela, hating every minute, or else hiding from her at the hospital to visit his sick mother. Tuesdays, though, Tuesdays were right at the start of the week and he had a whole three days afterward to see Bernice.

For almost three years, they went on like that. Pamela never asked questions, she wasn't bright enough to think about it. Whether Bernice's husband had caught on or not wasn't really much of Terry's concern. Jack Waverley was a prick, and Terry almost wished he would figure out the affair so he'd divorce Bernice and Terry could have her all to himself. At least that was the fantasy he carried with him.

On this particular Tuesday, Terry had arrived at their room first. He got undressed down to his skivvies and pulled down the bedspread to lie down and wait for her. He stared at the ceiling and daydreamed about what he wanted to do with her. He'd undress her himself. She usually didn't let him do that, wanted to get right down to it, but he liked the intimacy of it, unbuttoning her blouse, pulling her trousers off her legs, tracing his hands over every gorgeous curve of her body, getting excited as each bit of her got revealed to his hungry eyes. Then he'd lay her down and spread her legs before him and bury his face there, letting the sounds of her moans get him hard as her wetness got all over his mouth. Three times, he decided, he'd make her come three times today. Once with just his mouth, and twice while he was inside her, if he could manage. Maybe he could take her from behind this time. She always seemed to get off pretty good that way.

The door opened, interrupting his planning and bringing in reality. "Terry, I…" she began.

But he didn't let her continue. He scrambled up off the bed and pulled her into his arms and kissed her hard. There wasn't any attempt of talking after that. And just as he planned, Terry started by taking Bernice's clothes off her bit by bit, squeezing and kissing and sucking on all the flesh he could find. She was all soft and warm and beautiful, and he couldn't get enough of her. When she was naked and spread before him, her thighs squeezing his head, he couldn't help but give a growling sort of laugh, so pleased was he with her response to his efforts. And as soon as he flipped her over and grabbed her hips, she leaned back into him and moved against him with every thrust. Bernice cried out in pleasure, and it took everything in Terry to hold off just long enough for her to come a third time, just as he wanted. When he finished, he pulled her into his arms and collapsed onto the bed.

Bernice lay in Terry's embrace as they both tried to catch their breath. She shouldn't have let him do that. But he was just so bloody _good_, she couldn't resist. And that was just the problem. They'd been keeping up with this for years, and miraculously, they hadn't been caught. But that couldn't last forever. She had let him take the lead—which she didn't always allow—because she needed it. She needed him. Just one last time, she needed him. Needed to feel his brash power, his frighteningly delicate care, his hidden kindness. Because she knew she would miss it.

Terry pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder, and Bernice felt tears spring up in her eyes. This was it. "Terry," she began again.

"Yeah?"

She rolled over to face him. "I've…I've got some news."

He frowned, not liking the sound of that. "What news?"

Bernice suddenly didn't like the idea of being naked in front of him as they had this discussion, but she couldn't very well go shower and get dressed again, not now that she'd begun. She sat up and leaned against the headboard, running a hand through her hair. "I've made sergeant."

That wasn't what Terry had expected her to say. "Bloody hell, that's great, congrats!" He leaned in and kissed her cheek. "That's good news, isn't it? I mean, you've wanted to move up the ladder."

She nodded, trying to swallow back the lump in her throat. "But that means this can't continue."

"Why not?"

"Well, I'll be away at training for a few weeks, and then I don't know where I'll be assigned. I'm hoping for Organized Crime, I know they've got an opening there, but it's definitely not going to be Homicide."

"And what does that have to do with us? You think we can't screw when we aren't on the same crew anymore? It might be a little less convenient, but we can figure it out. Hell, it might be a turn-on to root a sergeant," he teased.

Part of her wanted to laugh, but she couldn't bring herself to it. "There's something else. Why we can't continue."

"What's that?"

"I'm pregnant."

Terry felt the blood rushing in his ears. He might have blacked out for a minute. Was he still sitting upright? He wasn't sure.

In a desperate need to fill the awkward silence and perhaps get Terry to do something other that stare blankly into space with a horrified look in his eye, Bernice went on, "So obviously we can't carry on like this. Probably wouldn't be good for the baby, and you won't want me when I'm fat anyway. And I've gotta get ready for motherhood. Somehow."

"Does he know?"

"Who?"

"Jack. Your dickhead husband. Does he know?"

"Not yet. I'm going to cook him a nice dinner on Friday and put on some music and light some candles and tell him he's going to be a father."

"Oh bullshit!" he cried out. "If Jack Waverley fathered that baby, I'm a bloody monkey!"

"Then climb a tree and eat a banana, Terry!" she shouted back. And with that, Bernice got up from the bed and went into the bathroom and slammed the door behind her. It was time to get cleaned up and get out of there.

Terry sat in the bed next to the wet patch where they'd shagged and tried to figure out what the hell he was supposed to do. No matter what Bernice tried to pretend, Terry was certain he was the one who knocked her up. It was stupid of them, not to be better about protection. Even if they had a schedule for their affair, it always seemed to be the heat of the moment between them. And given that, it was even a bit surprising it had taken three years for her to get pregnant. Though she was about thirty-five by now, wasn't she? She probably didn't have much time left on the biological clock.

He scrubbed his face with his hands and groaned. He was going to be a father. He needed to take care of things. Jack Waverley certainly wouldn't. As soon as he found out his wife had a bun in the oven that he hadn't baked, he was sure to leave her. He'd been threatening it for years. That was the only reason why Bernice came to the motel twice a week, because her marriage was dead already. She was married in name only, just like Terry was. And if it weren't for his saint of a mother barely hanging on to life, Terry have kicked Pamela to the curb two weeks after the honeymoon.

The shower turned off and Bernice came out of the bathroom a minute later wrapped in a towel. Her hair was damp on the ends where she'd gotten it under the water. It was Terry's favorite way to see her, all scrubbed clean.

She went around picking up her clothes from where he'd strewn them across the floor. Terry sat there, half-dressed himself, and watched her. "Don't go," he begged quietly. That wasn't all he wanted to say, but it was all he could bring himself to say in that moment.

Bernice left her blouse untucked over her trousers and pulled on her jacket. She gave him a tight-lipped, strained smile. "I'll see you around the station, Terry," she said, opening the door and walking out before she said anything more. It took everything in her to close that door behind her, to walk down the hall and back to her car. She'd managed to keep the tears from falling in front of him, but she was sobbing by the time she got to her car. If she hadn't been worried he would find her and convince her to do something else she'd regret, she would have sat there and cried and cried and cried. Instead, she wiped her eyes as best she could and sped off home.

Terry took his time getting all dressed before going home himself. Until Jack actually did leave Bernice, Terry knew he was stuck. He couldn't do anything yet. He wanted to, wanted to take charge and figure everything out for her. But he couldn't. Not now.

He was in a foul mood by the time he parked his car in the drive. Shockingly, Pamela came out front to greet him. She was crying.

"Oh, Terry! I tried to call you at the station, but they said you'd gone!"

"I was out with some mates," he lied. "What's wrong?"

"Your mother, Terry. I'm so sorry, your mother passed today. I got a call from the hospital a few hours ago," she sobbed.

A terrible crushing grief settled over Terry, but it also filled him with a strange lightness. "Pamela," he said hoarsely, the emotion of all the day's news hitting him hard. "I want a separation."

Her bony jaw dropped. "You what?"

"We live separated for a year and then apply for divorce and go our own ways. I'll pack up my stuff tonight and stay in a hotel till I find my own place. You keep the house. I don't need it."

"Terry, it's the shock of the news, you don't…you don't mean that!" she sputtered.

"I do mean it. I only married you because my mum wanted me to. She's gone now," he told her bluntly.

"Don't you love me?" she cried, her tears starting anew.

That question sat heavily upon him. Once upon a time, he might have been able to tell her yes. Even a year ago, he might have been able to lie to her face. But not anymore. Not when he had his mother to bury and a child on the way. So instead, Terry just said flat out, "No, Pamela. I don't love you."

He pushed past her and went in the house to fill a carryall with some clothes and things he'd need for a few days. There was a hotel right near the police station. He'd get a room there.


	3. Chapter 3

_The Third Time_

Another three years passed. Terry had got himself made sergeant on the Drugs squad. He was divorced and living on his own in a flat nearby. He hadn't seen or spoken to Pamela since everything got finalized. He also hadn't spoken to Bernice since her final day on Homicide before her sergeant's training. He saw her in the halls sometimes, heard her name mentioned. He did his best to ignore her.

But sometimes the gossip was too good to tune out.

"You hear about Waverley? Apparently her husband walked out. Can you believe that? I know she's a ball-buster, but they've got a little kid. Can't see how she's gonna fair now."

Terry's head snapped to attention to hear the uniformed officers talking in the lift. So Jack had finally left. Miracle he stuck around this long, playing dad to a kid that wasn't his. But maybe Bernice had convinced him to stay. Terry realized suddenly that he knew nothing about Bernice's child. His child. Didn't know if it was a boy or girl, the name, health, anything. Terry hadn't contributed anything. Bernice hadn't asked. But he hadn't offered either. Maybe he should. And now that she was available, maybe he could get her back in the sack. He'd dated around a fair bit the last few years, but he'd yet to find a woman as good as her. He smirked to himself, letting himself imagine her again.

Bernice was in her office, working on reviewing a report to the DPP, when the door opened without a knock. She looked up to give someone a bollocking over the disrespectful behavior and saw the last face she ever wanted to see.

"There's nothing my crew is working on that involves the Drugs squad, so kindly bugger off," she told him.

"I need to talk to you, Bernice," he said, closing the door behind him and ignoring her annoyance. "I heard about Jack."

"That is none of your business," she replied angrily.

"I think it is my business. Is he supporting you? And the kid?"

"We don't need him. And we certainly don't need you. You've done a good job ignoring us the last few years, and that suits everyone just fine. Besides, your wife might notice if you start trying to get involved now."

"Haven't got a wife. Told her it was over the same day you told me about the baby."

Bernice felt her heart sink into her stomach. "You…you never told me."

"You never asked."

They were at a stalemate. Staring at each other. Each of them begging for the other to say something but praying they wouldn't say anything at all. In the end, it was Terry who broke the moment. He gave a curt nod and walked out of Bernice's office.

Feeling all out of sorts, Terry went out for a drink after the day was done. He had it in mind to drown his sorrows, whatever those sorrows might have been. Nothing had really changed. There was no reason to be upset about anything. What had he expected? That she'd come crawling back to him? Bernice wasn't that sort of woman. She didn't need him. For a time, she'd wanted him. But she had never needed him, and she never would. And for that matter, Terry didn't need her either. He did just fine on his own.

The noisy din of the bar made him irritable. He paid his tab and drove himself home before he'd had too many. He felt calmer in the silence of his car. He'd go to bed and tomorrow would be back to the usual sort of thing. Enough of all this.

But that plan was quickly foiled. There was someone standing in the hall beside the door to his flat. "How'd you know where I live?"

"I have access to personnel records, Terry," Bernice pointed out softly. "Now, are you going to report me for improper use of the police database or are you going to let me in?"

Terry eyed her suspiciously but unlocked the door and let her inside his flat. "Shouldn't you be going home to your kid?"

"The babysitter can stay till ten."

There was a tone in her voice that made Terry shiver. "What're you doing here, Bernice?" he asked.

"After you came by my office, I got to thinking. We're both single now. We've never been both single before."

Terry wanted to point out that they'd both been single at the academy, but even then, he with Pamela and foolishly optimistic about what the future might hold. What a bloody waste. But Bernice was right, they were both single now. "So what does that have to do with it? Never mattered much before."

Bernice wouldn't let herself agree with him, even if it was true. She just hummed. "What do you think, Terry? Old time's sake?"

A smiled curled over his lips and his eyes darkened. He leaned in close and murmured, "You show up at my flat for a shag, Bernice?"

She blushed in spite of herself. "You gonna turn me down?"

"Not bloody likely," he scoffed.

And with that, Bernice grabbed the lapels of his jacked and pulled him down to kiss her. They were out of practice, but the habit came back quickly. They stumbled together down the hall to Terry's bedroom, bumping into walls on the way but never ceasing their hungry kiss.

Terry felt all the blood rush out of his brain and down to his groin. It felt mad, being with her again. Bernice was pushing his clothes off his body, removing her own as quickly as she could. Terry could barely get his hands on her. She was eager and powerful and she _wanted_ him. And Christ, did it feel good.

Bernice got them both naked as quick as possible, wanting to push forward and get to it before she came to her senses and lost her nerve. A lot had happened in three years. She hadn't been with a man since Terry, but she certainly wasn't going to tell him that. When she told Jack she was pregnant, he'd nearly walked out then. But Bernice painted a good picture of what life would be like for him, leaving his pregnant wife who was a cop to boot. Not that she'd ever use her influence to make his life difficult, but the threat of it was enough to keep Jack at home. But he'd never wanted to be a father, still fought with her as often as possible, and resented every single second of it. And she suffered through it because she thought she needed him. She thought she needed the support of a person in the house, a father for her child. But the first time she saw Jack raise a hand to the baby, she put an end to it. She let the rumor go around that her husband had left her—that was a more sympathetic angle, after all—but she had been the one to kick him out then and there. He could hate her all he wanted, but she would die before she let anything happen to her child.

For now, her child was in capable hands. After she got her fill with Terry, she'd go home and that would be that. Seeing Terry again that afternoon, talking to him, it all came back. The rush she always got when he looked at her, the way his gaze was always soft with care and hard with lust. Miraculous how those always seemed to go hand in hand for Terry. At least when it came to her. Just hearing his voice say her name again made her wet with arousal. It had been so long since she'd given any thought to physical pleasure. She had more important things to be concerned with. But Terry brought it all back to her. And if he wasn't married anymore, that made the logistics of a tumble in bed all the more convenient. He lived alone, and she had the babysitter till ten.

She pushed him back on the bed, marveling at how he'd been able to keep his physique after being made sergeant. Desk work had made her fat. Though that probably had more to do with the baby weight she never managed to lose. Terry didn't have that problem. Bernice was concerned, for a moment, about the drastic changes to her body since the last time Terry had seen her. Her hips were wider, her middle had rolls, and her bum sagged almost as much as her tits did. That baby thoroughly ravaged her, but until this exact moment, she hadn't thought to be bothered by it.

Bernice needn't have been concerned. Terry lay back and stared at her in all her glory, slack-jawed and growing hard as a rock. She was incredible. Always had been. And he'd missed her. "Come here," he growled, reaching out to her.

She crawled over the bed to straddle his lap. She wasn't in the mood for much foreplay. After all, she had a timetable to keep. She gave him a few hard strokes before sinking down on top of him.

Terry roared as she took him in. The feel of her was like nothing else in the world. His hands traveled up the flesh of her thighs to her hips and gripped her tightly. Bernice began to move, slowly at first, grinding on him. Terry continued his journey of exploration, over the curve of her waist and took her breasts in his hands, feeling their weight and teasing her with exploratory squeezes of his fingers. She moaned at the sensation. Everything felt different after the baby, but it was so very, _very_ good.

As she began to ride him in earnest, Terry called out her name over and over, like some glorious, filthy benediction from his lips. Bernice braced herself on his chest, delighting in the hard muscle she found here. But thanks to her age and the fact that she was woefully out of shape and out of practice, she tired quickly. She leaned forward, changing their angle. Terry caught her nipple in his mouth, grazing it with his teeth. He clutched her ass in his hands and guided her movements. She came quickly after that, and Terry thrust up into her furiously to follow soon after.

Bernice collapsed on top of him, sweaty and exhausted and unable to move. Terry wrapped his arms around her to hold her against his chest. He pressed a kiss to her hair.

As they struggled to catch their breath, Terry found himself a bit loose-lipped. "Tell me about the kid," he said. Immediately, he regretted it. He'd just gotten Bernice back in his arms and in his bed and now he was going to muck it all up again while he was still inside her.

But Bernice wasn't bothered by the request. It made her smile. "His name is Joshua. Joshua Martin, after my dad. He's two and a half now. And he's the sweetest little thing. Looks like me, thankfully. But he's got dark hair, like my dad did. He's so young, but he has this outstanding compassion about him. And a stubborn streak I cannot fathom. He's already quite a handful."

Terry couldn't help but grin. The way Bernice described her son—their son—felt an awful lot like how he'd hope someone might describe him. "He's healthy? Happy?"

"He's both of those things, yes."

"Good." Terry wanted to say a whole lot more than that, but he wouldn't push his luck. That would come in time.

Bernice wanted to stay right where she was forever. Naked and sated, nestled in Terry's arms. But unfortunately, this wasn't where she belonged. "Here, I'm crushing you," she said, climbing off him with a few unflattering grunts of effort.

Terry didn't want to let her go, but it would be best to make a move if she had to get back to Josh. Still, he couldn't keep his hands to himself. He let her roll off him, but his arms snaked back around her waist, his hands rubbing up and down her thigh and hip. "You're gorgeous," he murmured, kissing her neck.

She had to laugh, not having felt anything close to gorgeous in years. "You look exactly the same, and I got fat."

"Gorgeous," he insisted, squeezing her a bit tighter for emphasis.

Bernice nearly let her reaction to that sentiment slip from her lips, but she kept her mouth shut. None of that. "Terry, I've gotta go," she reminded him.

He sighed and reluctantly released her. "Yeah, I know."

She got out of bed and slipped into the bathroom to clean herself up a bit, just enough so she could go home and not have to answer questions from the babysitter. When she returned, Terry was sitting up on the edge of the bed wearing his trunks. Her clothes were folded in a pile beside him. She smiled in thanks and got dressed as he watched. "Thanks," she said.

"Any time. You know where I live now. All you gotta do is tell me when you wanna come over," he offered.

But Bernice shook her head. "We cannot go back to that, Terry. This was a…a one-time thing."

"Is that so?" he asked flatly.

"We're sergeants now. We answer to a higher ethical standard. And if either one of us wants to be made superintendent anytime soon, we've gotta keep our noses clean. And I've got Josh to think about."

"I meant what I said about that earlier," he interjected.

"I know you did," she replied gently. "But the answer's the same. Josh doesn't need any more changes in his little life. He's doing alright since Jack left. I don't want to confuse him any further. And we don't need money. We're alright."

"So you come for a shag and won't take anything from me? Worried we might be getting on the wrong side of Vice?"

Bernice pursed her lips at the insinuation that having sex and then accepting child support from him might be anything akin to prostitution. "You haven't changed at all, have you?" she spat.

Terry just shrugged. "You know where the door is, Bernice. Your choice if you want to slam it shut behind you."

And that's what she did.


	4. Chapter 4

_The Fourth Time_

She had run out of tears. She was sure of it. There was no possible way that Bernice had any more tears left in her body to cry. She has sobbed and screamed and wept with Josh's limp body in her arms. Her wailing cries had echoed through the warehouse chamber where her son had died. Alone and waiting for his mother to save him. And she had failed. And he was gone. And she had no more tears to cry.

That's what she'd thought, at least. Hoped. There were things to settle, work to be done. She was a hopelessly grieving mother, but she was also superintendent of Homicide. Her squad needed to nail that bastard for what he did. She had wanted to go with Josh, but she couldn't just wait around in Ronnie's office. She could wait in her own office. Focus on something else. Anything else.

How many times had she pushed her own feelings aside to get back to work? Too many times to count. And with her house full of cops and her steps dogged by uniformed officers and their pitying expressions, she needed to get back to her office and do whatever she could. To allow the shock to give her some productivity before the grief overtook her completely.

Terry had gone right back to the station after the coroner took Josh's body away. He had arrived to see Bernice crying. Heard her before he saw her. The sounds of her wailing despair had been an arrow through his heart.

Now he was alone. He closed the blinds on the windows to keep onlookers away. He didn't need anyone to know where he was right now. As far as anyone was concerned, this had nothing to do with him. And everyone could go right on believing that. But that was so far from the truth, Terry had trouble fathoming what he could possibly do now. He paced the floor. And he waited.

Bernice got to the police station and had Stanley Wolfe on her heels. He was a good friend. A good man. She liked him. Trusted him. But she was still his superior officer, and she wouldn't let him or anyone else forget it.

"Stanley, I am not going home yet. I am not going to walk into my house to find it filled with people. I will be in my office, making arrangements for my leave, and as soon as everyone's cleared off, then and only then will I go home," she insisted. Her voice was hoarse from the emotion that still lay heavy in her chest. A distant thought flickered through her mind: perhaps she would feel like this for the rest of her life. Surely this wasn't the sort of thing that ever got better or easier.

"You're in shock, Bernice, and I don't like the idea of you going home to an empty house."

She opened the door to her office as she told him, "I will be fine, Stanley!"

Terry stood in the middle of the office and stared at her as she entered.

Bernice blinked at him for a moment before telling Stanley to go. "I need to speak with Superintendent Jarvis in private, if you don't mind."

"I'll be going back to the interview." Stanley closed the door behind her and went downstairs to speak with his team and figure out how to get charges to stick on the man responsible for this atrocity.

Terry and Bernice were left alone. They didn't speak. They didn't move. He just watched her. And she watched him. The more he looked at her, the worse it was. Her face was stoic but the hurt radiated off her. Her anguish was a palpable aura around her that made the air heavy. And as Terry allowed himself to contemplate what Bernice might be feeling, his eyes welled up. He didn't bother to keep his tears from falling down his cheeks. He opened his arms to her.

Bernice shattered all over again. She rushed into his embrace and buried her face in his chest. She had thought she had cried all her tears. And perhaps she had cried all her tears for Josh and for herself. Now she cried for Terry.

It was better, he thought, to be able to hold her. Better and so much worse. Terry wrapped his arms around her soft, warm body. She was shaking with the force of her sobbing. He squeezed her tighter to him and his own tears continued to flow.

Fifteen years since that day in the motel. Fifteen years since their love affair, such that it was, had ended. Bernice told him she was pregnant and broke it off. She hadn't given Terry a choice. Perhaps that was for the best. But Terry has left his wife for her. He hadn't told Bernice that was why, nor had he ever told Pamela he'd been sleeping with another woman. He had never told a soul that he'd fathered a child. A child who had lived fourteen years without knowing his father. A child Terry had never met. A child Terry had loved from the moment he'd been conceived but never gotten the chance to know.

"I'm so sorry, Terry," she cried.

"Shh, none of that," he soothed. His voice cracked with emotion.

"He's gone. Our boy is gone. I couldn't save him. Our son is dead and he never knew his father. I never let you be his father."

That was the first time she had ever openly acknowledged Joshua's true parentage. It made his heart ache more than he ever imagined. "It's alright," he told her. "I understand. I know how it was. I probably would've been a crap father anyway."

Bernice pulled away slightly and looked up at him. "No you wouldn't. You would have been a good father for him. For us."

A strangled sob escaped him, and Terry pulled Bernice back into a tight embrace. "Water under the bridge now," he replied shakily.

Bernice kept crying, and so did Terry. They wept for the child they'd created. A wonderful child with whom they had never gotten to share the truth, the family they'd never really had. Josh was gone, and their hearts were shattered.

Eventually they fell into a calm numbness. Terry took Bernice's face in his hands. His thumbs wiped tears from her cheeks. Her eyes were bloodshot from all the crying. In all the tragedy of it, he couldn't help but contemplate how beautiful she was, even still. He leaned in and kissed her softly.

Bernice wrapped her arms around her neck and held him close to her, deepening their kiss.

They pulled apart, resting their foreheads against each other. "I'm so sorry, Bernice. I should've done more."

"We both should have done more." She kissed him again. For what else could she possibly do now?

Bernice pulled away from the kiss and buried her face in Terry's chest, taking comfort from this man she had adored for almost twenty years. Since that first time in his car, she had loved him. And not until this precise moment had she allowed herself to admit it.

"Terry?" she began with a strained voice.

"Yeah?" he replied softly.

"I've gotta do a few things here. Take...take care of things. For whoever is going to replace me. Actually it'll probably be you replacing me. They'll just keep you on, I'd imagine."

"I dunno. It's your squad, Bernice."

She shook her head. "I'm going to need to take some leave."

"Of course. I'll let you get to it," he said, pulling out of their embrace.

Bernice bit her lip and blurted, "If you can wait a bit, you can come home with me."

Her offer was a very kind one. One that would comfort them both, surely. But after so long, he didn't want it to be like that anymore. After so many times when she'd shared a bed with him for a few hours only to leave him cold when it was time to sleep, Terry couldn't handle that now. He didn't want to do anything she'd regret when the grief settled. Didn't want to take advantage of it. He loved her too much for that.

His moment of hesitation was enough for her to retract her offer. "No, bad idea. Never mind. Forget it."

Terry just nodded mutely. He gave a small sniff and wiped his face of tears and walked out. He would watch the interview. Terry would watch Stan and the team get a confession from the bastard that killed his son.


	5. Chapter 5

_The Fifth Time_

Terry told Stanley to go on ahead and closed the door to Bernice's office behind him. "Commander Waverley, a word?"

"Can it wait, Terry? I want to go break the good news to the troops." Bernice was practically giddy with excitement. They'd arrested Lombardi and the DPP had just finished laying the charges. And having just gotten back from court, there was going to be a bit of a celebration on the Homicide floor. And Bernice wanted to be there with them.

"It won't take long," he told her softly.

Bernice regarded him carefully, unsure of what was happening. They had kept their relationship strictly professional since everything that had happened before. Since they had wept in each other's arms after the death of their son. They had never spoken about it, actually. That Josh wasn't just hers, but _theirs_.

They hadn't had a moment alone since that day. Not really. Just work-related things. Terry had done a fine job as superintendent of Homicide while Bernice took her leave and then continuing on when she was his superior when she was promoted to Commander of Crime. Presumably no one other than Bernice would have ever known that it wouldn't be a problem for her to be his boss. Perhaps if any other woman had been ordering him around, it might have been a problem. But they'd moved past such things a long time ago. Not that either of them had ever said anything about it directly, of course.

Now, however, Terry was using that tone of voice that Bernice recognized. The tone he used for the first time when he'd found her crying and offered to drive her to a hotel, when he'd held her hand and led her to his car, when he'd told her she was unbelievable. That was the first time Bernice had kissed him, the first time they'd made love. For that's what it had always been between them. Even from that first time. It was a physical release and a stupid idea in the heat of the moment, a moment they repeated for years and years with startling regularity. _Christ_, she realized, _it's been twenty years_. And for all those twenty years, she had loved him. Maybe sometimes more and sometimes less, but she had loved him. For all that he was the worst decision she ever made, and for all that he was the best thing that had ever happened to her.

"What is it?" she asked, matching his soft tone.

He made a quick glance to the windows out to the hall, noting that the blinds were drawn. Satisfied that they had a bit of privacy, he reached one of his big, rough manly hands up and gently stroked her cheek and brushed back her hair.

His touch was unexpected. Almost unfamiliar to her now, after so long. But certainly not unwelcome. She nearly started to tremble.

"I am so bloody proud of you," he said.

"What?" That certainly wasn't at all what she expected him to say.

"All of this, the way you've handled all the Dane Majors and Lombardi mess. You are without a doubt the best Commander of Crime anyone could ask for. You're brilliant at this. And I'm proud to serve under your leadership. I'm proud to know you, Bernice. And you and I both know that I really know you. Christ, getting to know you is the best thing in my life. And I…"

Whatever he was about to say, she wouldn't let him. She couldn't allow him to go on. Because she couldn't bear another second without kissing him. Without throwing her arms around his neck and crashing her lips to his.

He responded in an instant. Their old push and pull returned as though no time had gone by. His hands were in her hair and hers were clutched on his shoulders. Their bodies slotted into place against one another.

Bernice pulled away suddenly, realizing what was happening. "Oh god, Terry, what are we doing?"

"What we do best, I think," he said with a grin. He couldn't help smiling to look at her, hair all mussed and lips swollen from his attentions. Her face was flushed and she looked beautiful.

She sighed and buried her face against his neck. "Why do we always end up like this? My god, it's been how long?"

"A long time, Bernice," he said, smoothing down her hair gently. "I think we end up like this because we're meant to. That's how it feels, anyway."

"We had a torrid affair when we were detectives. We shagged in a motel and then went home to our respective spouses. Shouldn't that have been the end of it?"

"You know that wasn't the end of it."

Bernice swallowed hard. No, that certainly wasn't the end of it. She'd tried so hard, back then, to put a stop to it for Josh's sake. But how could she deny herself the affections of the father of her child? How could she deny herself the man she loved? The man who inexplicably seemed to love her, too, even after all this time and aging and sorrow? "How can you still want me?" she asked, genuinely not knowing the answer.

"I never stopped wanting you," he told her firmly. And just to prove the point, he pulled back and tilted her chin up so she was looking him in the eye. "You are all I've wanted, ever since that first time. Before that, even."

"Wh-what?" she asked in shock.

Terry knew this was it. This was his chance, the only one he'd ever get, probably. Time to lay it all out. She wouldn't turn him away now. He felt it in his bones that this was the right time. And bugger his dignity if it wasn't. He was done holding back. "I wasn't gonna force you to leave your husband, Bernice. I thought he'd leave you when you told him about the baby. I got myself divorced so I'd be ready when you were. And then everything that's happened since? I was waiting for our time. But I'm done waiting now. We saved Homicide today, but there's no telling what's coming around the next bend. So I want to be with you now, before we miss our chance."

Bernice felt her head spinning. And if Terry hadn't been holding her, she might well have collapsed in shock. After all this time, he'd as good as confessed all his feelings. Feelings she had suspected—hoped for—but never really believed him capable of. This was Terry Jarvis, after all, the biggest prick in the State Police. Who would have ever thought he could feel this way? And about her, of all people.

He let her have a moment to process. She was a woman of action, Bernice, but she was always so good at analyzing the situation and weighing the options. But she was taking too long. So he did the only sensible thing and leaned in to kiss her again.

This time, however, she wouldn't let him get too far. She pressed her lips against his a few times but then stepped back, away from his embrace. "Terry, we can't do this now. I've got to get down to the party. Someone's going to come looking for us."

He nodded. "Whatever you want, Bernice. I've said my piece."

"Later. Later we should…we should talk," she said, trying to get her head right again after all of that.

"Yeah," he agreed. "But for now, let's go get a beer."

They went down to Homicide together. A uniform gave them each a beer. They went and stood in the back beside Stanley Wolfe and watched the news report about Lombardi's arrest. Everyone cheered. Bernice got up on a chair and gave a little speech, full of the triumph of the moment and the pride in the squad.

As she told everyone how proud she was of the tenacity they'd all shown, her stomach flipped inside her. To think that just minutes before, Terry had been holding her in his arms and saying how very proud he was of her.

Terry watched her speak and was overwhelmed by his affection for her. He wished he could do more than just hold her hand to help her down from the chair. They were all so happy, and he just wanted to sling an arm around her waist, hold her against him, share a few beers, and laugh with their friends. But they would have their chance later. For now, they'd celebrate with their team.

Bernice looked around at everyone, noticing the way Mapplethorpe and Buchanan shared a glance. She briefly wondered if she and Terry had ever looked that way to outsiders, the love just palpitating off them when they made eye contact. She assumed not. Whatever was going on with those detectives wasn't anything like what had gone on with Terry and her. But perhaps, through this, they could all find a bit of due happiness.

She went over to speak to Rhys, her beloved nephew. He was a complete pill so much of the time, but he was a good boy with a good heart and he was trying very hard to learn to be part of the team and take pride in the work they all did. He was becoming a great detective. And she loved him dearly. "I don't think I'll be home tonight, so don't wait up for me, alright?"

"You what?"

"You heard me," she said with a small wink. "And I'll thank you to keep your insinuations to yourself."

Rhys gaped at her. Bernice just laughed and went to get another beer. She did, however, wait until he was caught in conversation with someone else before she crossed the room.

"Superintendent Jarvis, a word?"

Terry joined her in the corner. "Anything for you. What's up?"

"I think that after the party and when the workday is done, since it is still a workday and just gone three in the afternoon, you should take me home with you."

"Is that what you think?"

"I can give a direct order if that would be a better turn-on for you," she teased.

Terry just growled, clearly appreciating the thought and frustrated he couldn't act on it right away. Bernice beamed happily and walked away from him to speak to Sergeant Ryan.


	6. Chapter 6

…_And the First Time They Did_

"Phillip Canter's dead."

Bernice rolled her eyes and pushed past Terry into his house. "Yes, Superintendent, I'm aware of that. Senior Sergeant Wolfe already informed me. Though I think it would have been your duty to do that, as head of Homicide."

"Well, I knew I was gonna see you later."

She turned to look at him incredulously as he locked the front door behind them. "You are impossible, you know that?"

He prowled towards her with a hungry grin. "Yeah, but that's what you like best about me."

"Oh god help me, I do," she groaned just before his mouth swallowed her words. He pulled her tight into his embrace and kissed her hard. She pressed herself against him and moaned with desire. There was something about this kiss that sent shivers up and down her spine. But breathlessly, she pulled back from him. "Terry, why don't you give me a tour of your house, eh?"

He smirked, eyes dark with lust. "Come on now, Bernice, we don't need to pretend you came here to see anything except the bedroom. Though come to think of it, we could use the sofa. Or a table. Or the floor."

"At our age, I'm fairly certain we need a bed."

"Whatever you want," he murmured. His hands traced down her back to her bum and grinded her against him to feel his hardness.

A whimper of desire escaped her. Bernice was mildly appalled at the reaction she had to him. After all this time, after everything she'd been through, the fact that he could make her feel so unhinged like this was beyond her wildest imaginings.

"Upstairs?" he asked softly, dragging his lips over her ear.

"God, yes," she groaned, unable to help herself.

Terry took her hand and led her up the stairs to his bedroom. He'd gotten home a little while earlier and made sure everything was all cleaned up and ready for her. She hadn't been to his house. He'd been living in that old flat just after his divorce the last time they'd gotten together. This was a distinct improvement.

He didn't let her say a single word as he went back to kissing her and undressing her as quick as he could, desperate to feel her skin once again after so long. When he'd pushed her jacket off and his hands went up the front of her blouse, she pulled back again. "Could we turn the lights out?" she asked, breathing heavily.

"What for?"

She raised her brow at him before swallowing hard and looking down at her own over-the-hill body. Whatever arousal he had now would surely wane upon seeing ever wrinkle and roll and age spot and dimple on her skin. And she couldn't bear it if he ever looked at her with revulsion. Not now, not after all this time.

Terry just shook his head. "I know I'm not much to look at, but I want to see you. Please, Bernice, please let me see you," he begged, kissing down her neck while his hands toyed with the hem of her blouse.

"Alright," she agreed in a small voice.

He pulled her top off over her head and walked her back onto the bed. She was left in just her bra and knickers before she knew it. And his eyes roved over her with that same hungry expression. How, she had no idea. But he looked at her just the same.

She pulled him towards her and they fell back onto the bed together. Her hands made quick work of the buttons on his shirt. He'd removed his jacket and tie before she'd arrived there. Terry got up to remove his shoes and socks and trousers.

"Here, into bed," he directed, pulling back the bedsheets for her to crawl into. He joined her immediately, wearing only his trunks. He removed her bra before settling himself on top of her and renewing his familiarity with her gorgeous, full breasts.

Bernice could not help the keening sound falling from her lips. She cradled Terry between her thighs and her hips moved uncontrollably against him, seeking friction as her back arched into the sweet touch of his generous mouth. "Terry, please," she begged. "Please, I don't wait to any longer."

It was in Terry's mind to build her up as much as he could before he was inside her, particularly because at his age, once was all he'd be able to manage till the morning. But she wanted him and begged for him, and he couldn't deny her anything.

Quickly, he rid them both of the remaining fabric separating them. He lined himself up at her entrance, groaning her name to feel her wetness coat his tip. He wanted to savor her, take things slowly and feel her take in every inch of him. By the time he was fully sheathed inside her, she was already fluttering around his length.

Their lovemaking was not particularly elegant or athletic. They were both aching for each other, after so long apart. There would be time, Bernice knew, for them to explore more and to really relearn each other. But now was not that time. She needed him desperately. And Terry did not disappoint. She came quickly, gasping and moaning. He spilled inside her and collapsed, his panting breath against her neck.

Terry rolled over and pulled her into his embrace. "I love you," he murmured.

Bernice smiled. "Yes, I know."

"I figured you did," he scoffed. "You've always been smarter than me."

She chuckled and kissed his bare chest. "And I love you."

"Now that I didn't know."

"Really?"

"You're a bit cagy with these things, Bernice," he teased.

She gave him a gentle squeeze. "Well don't let there be any mistake. I love you, Terry, and I won't just be here for a few hours or leave and tell you we can't do this anymore. Because frankly, you've just proved that we should do this as often as possible. It absolutely boggles the mind we can have sex that good over age fifty."

Terry laughed, "Well I could give you even better if you weren't so bloody impatient."

She sat up and huffed at him. "I was impatient because you're very good at making me want you, so I don't think you should be complaining."

"No, never complaining." He pulled her back down to snuggle against him once more. "And besides, if you're planning on sticking around, I can take my time with you."

Bernice grinned. "I told Rhys I wouldn't be home tonight. And I haven't got anything on my calendar till ten tomorrow morning. So we can certainly take our time."

Terry tilted his head down to kiss her. "You've never spent the night with me before."

"Never said I loved you before either. Lot of new opportunities here. Hope that's alright."

He stroked her hair and looked at her with unbridled adoration. "I have been waiting for this for twenty years. And now that I've got you, I'm not gonna let you go so easily."

"What have you got in mind?" she asked with a flirtatious smile.

"Well, for tonight, I figure we'll stay in bed till we're hungry. I've got some things I can make us later. We can wander around half dressed and I can kiss you till you push me off you and we can fall asleep wrapped around each other just like this. Then tomorrow, I'd like to take you out on a proper date."

"A date?"

"Yes, a date. Dinner, to start. Maybe on the weekend we can see a movie or a show or something. You like plays and things, don't you?"

Bernice was still stuck on his prior statement. "Terry, you want to _date _me?"

"'Course I do. I meant what I said, Bernice, I love you and I wanna be with you. And not just in bed together, but properly together."

She exhaled in complete disbelief. "Best kept secret in the State Police."

"What is?"

"You. You're a genuinely wonderful man. And yet you act like a complete dickhead most of the time."

"Yeah, well, you're special," he reasoned.

"I must be. No one is ever going to believe the idea of us together."

"I don't need anyone to believe it. As long as I've got you, that's all I need."

"Terry Jarvis, I do love you."

With the happiest smile he could ever recall having on his face, Terry rolled them both over and kissed her again. After all, he wasn't hungry yet. And he had many more ways to show her how much he loved her.


End file.
